I'd brush the summer by With half a smile
by 14shadesoffuckedup
Summary: Mainly Edward&Alice and Carlisle&Rosalie, some Edward/Rosalie, mild Emmett/Rosalie and Carlisle/Esme. E&A have a complicated,love/hate relationship.Carlisle,his ever-loyal father,falls for his son's best friend, Rosalie.Edward would rather be with Rosalie but can't get over Alice who is paranoid when it comes to their friendship. In the end, they are all their own fucked up family
1. Is that so?

**Our Sick, Unhealthy Ways**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Twilight Saga characters; they belong to **_Stephenie_** Meyer Meyer. No copyright infringements intended.

**Warning:** Darkward, contains violence, abuse, mild form of sexual abuse. DOMESTIC ABUSE. POSSESSIVE, HARSH EDWARD. Do not read if you don't like that.

CHAPTER ONE - Is that so?

ESME POV

I always wonder, about Edward and Alice. Sometimes, I don't know if we did the right thing. It's so weird, don't you think? He's Carlisle's son-adoptive son-and she's my niece. Fine, adoptive niece. And they're in love. And Carlisle and I married.

And that is weird.

I don't think I'll ever fully accept it. However, they are adults. They can do whatever they wish. Carlisle doesn't think it's that bad. We're both really happy for them; they complete each other. Alice is so—so content. I feel that I've given my sister a reason to lie peacefully in her grave. Her daughter is well; I have been as a responsible guardian. Everything is OK.

I met Carlisle many years ago. My adoptive sister, Mary, had just died and Alice was sick. I took her to the hospital and Carlisle accepted to see her although he wasn't a pediatrician. She was 11, I was 23. Overwhelmed—we both were. It turned out Alice wasn't dangerously ill; just a stomach ache. Needless to say, Carlisle and I dated, fell furiously in love, and got married, all in one year. I never understood the rush; Carlisle seemed to be fleeing from something, or someone. I was too happy to ponder on this back then. I regret it today.

Carlisle's 13 year-old son did not pose a problem; I was very taken by him. He was sweet, gentlemanly, the perfect older brother for Alice!

They didn't see it that way.

They seemed to fancy each other that first month. I didn't really pay much attention to it-marital bliss had blinded me. They really took to one another though, and they started dating.

OFFICIALLY.

I freaked out. Carlisle was calm.

Isn't this incest? No, it isn't. They are in no way related. They have never lived together as brother and sister. I had-have-no reason to fret.

Besides, I have Carlisle. Not like I had him all those years ago, but still.

I'm just the aunt, right?

Alice POV

I feel like a sixty-year old; I'm so tired. I remind myself that I am only eighteen, that I am still young and healthy before I walk in to our Upper Westside apartment.

It's silent and I realize that it's very late. 2:00 A.M. God, I hadn't realized that it was this late; Edward will be furious. Maybe I'll be lucky and he'll be asleep.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" He asks my quietly from the couch as I enter the apartment, tiptoeing my way though the large living room. No, it doesn't look like it's my lucky day.

I smile at him feebly and answer,

"I didn't see the time fly by; I was busy shopping with Rose. Then we went for dinner. Then, she wanted me to go over to her place so that she could show me something-'

I see his jaw tighten.

"I was worried, Alice. You could've called. Or answered my calls, for that matter."

"I'm sorry. My phone was on silent mode.'

He glares at me furiously, stands up from the couch and heads to our bedroom. Without saying anything.

I follow him slowly, giving him time to cool off. I know he sometimes has a temper. I've known him for almost eight years, after all.

Suddenly he turns back to face me so abruptly that I slam into his chest, my face barely reaching the base of his neck.

"It's funny. I recall Rosalie and Emmett being in France right now. He is my brother, Alice, I know his plans. She's my closest friend and I think she would have mentioned it in one of our daily phone calls had she decided to suddenly fly back home to go out with you. Not that I would've believed it since you dislike her so fucking much! And it's funny, but I never pegged Jasper for the type of guy who likes shopping."

Shit, he knew. Shit shit shit. Ok, calm down, Alice. Play it like you're the one who's angry.

"Have you been following me?' I ask, outraged. Feigning, of course.

"Don't you dare turn this around! And no, I have not been stalking you. I saw Jasper drop you here. You lied," He's getting angrier with every word.

"Only because I knew that you would have a fit. I missed Jasper. He's my friend."

"I wouldn't be having fits if you stopped lying to me. And if he is your friend, why do you have to hide his presence for me?"

I'm beginning to feel trapped. I don't know what to do. He's right. I'm a liar.

Now, I'm so nervous that I become angry at him for being right and at me for screwing up.

And before I realize it, I shout,

"Because YOU HATE HIM!'

'Lower your voice, Alice. Do NOT forget to whom you are speaking. And he's your ex-boyfriend. OF COURSE I HATE HIM!' He warned me furiously. It sent shivers down my spine. I should've bit my answer back,

"I didn't forget that I was speaking to the most POSSESSIVE, CONTROLLING, ASS—"

His eyes widen. He 's probably wondering if he had heard me correctly?

Edward's eyes sparkle and he is turning red. Not the blushing type of red—Edward and I don't blush anymore—but the angry type.

"How dare you call me names?"

"How dare you try to control me?"

"You are mine."

"I am not."

"Alice, don't test my patience."

"Your patience is inexistent."

"So is your faithfulness."

"So is my love for y—"

"WHAT?"

I see Edward's mouth fall open and I know that mine did the same thing. I think that this would've been as trivial as our other little fights if I had not tried to be witty. I focus on Edward and see that he is not moving, and I wonder if he's breathing.

He is not looking at me when he says,

"I hope you realize what you're saying, Alice."

Call me a sadist or a masochist. Call me plain crazy, but I say, loud and clear,

"I do!"

Edward is still not looking at me.

"Take it back."

His voice is soft, pleading, a little whiney, and that gives me more courage to be mean.

"NO."

"TAKE IT BACK, GOD DAMN IT."

I hadn't realized that he was shaking me angrily, his face not an inch from mine. I feel terrified. For some reason—one that I would never admit— I can't speak anymore.

I focus on Edward again and he is shouting angrily in my face.

"YOU LIED TO ME! YOU DECEIVED ME. AND YOU DARE TELL ME YOU DO NOT LOVE ME? IS THAT SO?"

Silence shatters the room and I wonder if he was expecting an answer. If he was, he'd be disappointed because I feel too overwhelmed to answer.

"ANSWER ME"

And for some stupid reason, I say the stupidest thing,

"Jasper is better for me."

Edward drops me—I hadn't realized that he had been literally picking me up—and he looks pale. And disgusted.

He turns around and heads to leave.

I panic.

"Edward, I didn't mean it! Come back."

"Why don't you call Jasper to keep you company?" he asks bitterly

"Edward."

He doesn't pay me any heed. Instead, he opens the door to leave and before I realize it, I fling myself at him, begging him to stay, kissing him all over, holding his hand to my face.

I'm hysterical. It's my way out when I'm in trouble.

He looks at me and I can see that beyond his desire to hurt me back, beyond his anger and disgust, he is tired. Of our fights. Of the pain.

Of me?

He leaves.

I run after him in the hallway and call,

"Coward! You're not man enough to stay! Way to be a man. Walk away, go ahead. Leave. Coward! It's in your fucking veins anyways."

I think he smiles. I can always feel it when he smiles.

"I will no longer stoop down to your level", he says coldly.

He knows that indifference is what I hate the most. He wants to hurt me, damn him.

And then he disappears. The love of my life. My everything. Edward.

He walked out on me.

My mind turns dark, and I'm sick .I do not recognize myself anymore.

I go to our red kitchen and get out a knife, determined to hurt myself. I can't. The knife looked too painful. I run back to our bathroom and take one of his razors. Yes, it would be as if he were cutting through me…His razor.

I break it and pry the blade out.

I place it over my palm and press.

It hurts like hell.

Ignore the pain!

I deserve hell. I would be in it soon, I had lost him.

Red spots.

I pull the assassin utensil down through my palm, creating a tidy, hurtful mess. Satisfied and hurt—so, so hurt—I throw the razor at the wall in rage and cry.

I shut up, disgusted with myself, not wanting to cry.

Only weaklings cry, Rosalie would say. Rosalie was strong. Rosalie was perfect.

I grab another razor blade and run it over my palm or create perfect lines.

I throw this blade randomly too. Dad would be disgusted. Esme would blame herself. Would anyone blame Edward? Would anyone blame me?

They'd be wrong to do so! They should blame Rosalie. Perfect, sweet Rosalie. Can I blame him for loving her? I love her too! But I am not her and I hate her for that.

No, that's a lie; I only hate myself.

This is why I hurt myself.

This is why punish myself.

This realization terrorizes me. Will I be hurting myself a lot?

And I just sit there, on the floor, alone. And hollow. I think I sit there for two hours. Two damaging hours. Every minute is full of realizations. And terror. And blood.

Then I hear his footsteps. Good God, he'd be enraged if he sees this. I have to hide it, but I can't be bothered.

I don't have the force to fake, to clean, to hide.

"Alice." He calls out from the doorway.

I don't want to meet his gaze; I fear both the indifference and the rage I'd find there. It's sick, but I hope he'll be furious; at least that would show me he cares.

I close my eyes; I don't know why

"Look at me." He orders firmly.

I do. I look at him.

And I see rage and concern and more rage.

Guilt.

Pain.

Love.

Confusion.

Thank God! He loves me still.


	2. The burns of hell

**Our Sick, Unhealthy Ways**

**CHAPTER TWO - The burns of hell.**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Twilight Saga characters; they belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringements intended.

**Warning:** Darkward, contains violence, abuse, mild form of sexual abuse. DOMESTIC ABUSE. POSSESSIVE, HARSH EDWARD. Do not read if you don't like that.

Carlisle POV

I was in the hospital, bored and tired. Again, I had a night shift. This time, surprisingly, everything was quiet and the hospital halls were empty. I felt lucky and a bit useless, so I decided to work on paperwork.

At around three in the morning, Edward, my first son—I adopted Emmet later and he's older than Edward is—erupted into my office, enraged.

I looked at my son, my confidant, my dearest friend, and I saw beyond the fury. Because I knew him. I knew Edward better than anyone else.

He was broken, damaged. And no matter how hard I tried, that would never change.

'What's wrong?' I asked him calmly—one of us needed to be calm.

'I am so tired of all this, Carlisle.' Yes, it hurt me that, sometimes, he didn't call me 'Dad'; it was as if I were being burned. But, it's not something I could force on him. And the few times he did call me 'Dad,' made me feel complete. It came out so naturally and sounded so matter-of-fact in his uncertain voice.

'Tired of what?'

'Everything. Alice.' Oh. That.

This was going to be long. And painful. My son and that lovely young girl had one hell of a relationship. Pure, sick, violent, calm, strong, damaged. If I didn't know that he loved Alice so much, I'd be against it. But he loved her, and I only wanted him to be happy.

'Why don't we sit down so that you could tell me what the problem is?"

He nodded curtly and sank into the couch. I sat near him.

And I listened as his broken voice told me about Alice being late, him being worried. Alice lying to him about Jasper, him doubting her fidelity. Alice calling him names, him warning her not to. Alice saying Jasper was better for her, him taking her at her word. And leaving, despite her begging. Acting indifferent, despite the passion that consumed him. Leaving so that he would not hurt her. Because she had hurt him Oh-so-very-badly.

I patted his shoulder and sighed. He watched me cautiously and asked me what I was thinking.

'It's always going to be about Jasper, isn't it?'

'He is the 'other man'!'

'Merely the semblance of a rival.'

'She dated him.'

Yes, Jasper would always be a touchy subject, a fire-kindler. I think it was two years ago that Edward and Alice got into one of those fights, those fights where both parties say horrible things they can't take back afterwards. So, they broke it off. Only for two months. They got back together quickly, both miserable without each other.

During those two months, though, they both engaged in 'relationships'-Edward only in one-night stands, seeking to satisfy his biological needs and to forget Alice. And Alice…Well Alice dated her one-night stand for two months.

Next to me, on the couch, my son put his head in his hands. I asked him what he was thinking.

'I want to leave her. Forever.'

Shock washed over me. Leave Alice? Edward leave Alice? Our world would turn into hell!

But I mustered my strength and said,

'Do whatever you think is better. For you.'

'Esme would be angry.'

'They're family; she has a right to.'

'Would you hate me?'

'Of course not.'

'It'll make your wife unhappy.'

'I want you to be happy. You're my son.'

'She's your wife.'

'You come first.'

He bit his lower lip measuring the truth behind my words with his angry gaze. I looked away. He sighed.

'Give me a reason.'

'To why you come first?'

'No, to why I shouldn't leave Alice.'

'If you want to leave her, there's no reason I can give you not to.'

His hands formed fists. He was angry again.

'I can't.'

I was silent. What did he want from me?

'I can't leave her.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I want to but I can't.'

'You love her'.

'But we're both damaged. We're both broken. We're bad for each other.'

'What do you want me to do, son? Just tell me.'

'I don't know, Carlisle.'

He stood up and sat down again, undecided.

'What would you do if it were Esme?'

'I wouldn't leave,' I answered without hesitating. I didn't leave when I had reason enough to walk away.

'Why not?'

'Because I love her.' But I loved he_r_ so much more than anyone will ever know.

'Love isn't enough. Tell me why not?'

'Because I am not a quitter. I despise men who walk away. I do not walk away.'

Edward nodded, satisfier. This was the answer he had wanted.

'No, you don't.'

He looked at me calmly, and I felt sick.

'My father, though, walked away.'

His biological father, my faceless rival. The man who brought out all the pettiness and weakness in me. All the rage. The monster.

I said nothing. What could I say? Edward was burning me. The man who left him and his mother to poverty and to death, he calls "father". Whereas I, who has tried everything in my power to be there for him and has loved him as a son and friend, get called 'Carlisle'.

The burns of hell!

'He left. That means it's in my veins. So, I'm a quitter.'

'No.'

'No?'

'You're not a quitter. You're not your father.'

'Why not?'

'Because I raised you differently.'

There, I had it. Edward could do nothing but agree with the firm Carlisle, the one who raised him, the one who saved his five year-old self.

No, Edward didn't like to admit it, but he loved me. I mattered greatly.

'I'll go back. To the apartment.'

'Ok.'

'I'm not leaving Alice.'

'Good.'

'Thanks…for the talk.'

'Don't thank me.'

'Bye.'

I waved him off. I never said 'bye' to Edward, afraid superstitiously that he'd never come back.


	3. Love isn't supposed to be about hurt

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**HELLO, GUYS! I'VE NOTICED THE STORY'S BEEN GETTING MANY VIEWS BUT NOT REVIEWS. IF YOU LIKE THE STORY OR HAVE A COMMENT, PLEASE REVIEW BECAUSE I'D REALLY LIKE SOME FEEDBACK.**

**ENJOY!**

**Our Sick, Unhealthy Ways**

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Twilight Saga characters; they belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringements intended.

**Warning:** Darkward, contains violence, abuse, mild form of sexual abuse. DOMESTIC ABUSE. POSSESSIVE, HARSH EDWARD. Do not read if you don't like that.

CHAPTER THREE - Love isn't supposed to be about hurt!

Alice POV

_"Alice." He calls out form the doorways._

_I don't want to meet his gaze; I fear both the indifference and the rage I'd find there. It's sick, but I hope he'll be furious; at least that would show me he cares._

_I close my eyes; I don't know why_

_"Look at me." He orders firmly._

_I do. Look at him._

_And I see rage and concern and more rage._

_Guilt._

_Pain._

_Love._

_Confusion._

_Thank God! He loves me still._

Edward approaches me slowly, and I don't know what he's thinking. I'm expecting a storm of fury and reproaches, looks of disappointment, scolding… But Edward tenderly encircles my waist and kisses me. He holds his forehead to mine and his eyes are gentle.

"I didn't mean to walk away. I just needed to calm down."

"Ok." I whisper, unsure of how to respond. He hadn't realized what I had done; he hadn't seen. Thank the Lord!

"Alice."

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love _you,_" I feel warm in his arms.

"Why do you look so nervous?"

"Ummm. For no reason. I'm sorry about Jasper."

"Don't let it happen again." Firmly.

"I won't."

I'm lost in Edward's gaze for an undetermined amount of time until his gaze shifts from me to the wall behind me.

"Why is there blood on the wall?" He asks, still not realizing.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? You were the only one here! Unless, of course, you followed my advice and called Jasper to keep you company:'

'STOP IT!'

"Do NOT yell at me."

Edward rushes to the wall, leaving me standing there like a confused idiot, and inspects the area.

His voice is dull when he asks me,

"Alice, what did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me! Why is there a blade on the floor?" There's urgency in his voice and fear in his eyes.

"Maybe you dropped it."

"Tell me! What did you do?"

"Edward—"

He's back in front of me in the blink of an eye and he orders,

"Show me your arms."

"This is ridicul—"

"SHOW ME YOUR ARMS."

"No."

His hands dart to my wrists and pull them forward. Edward spots my left palm quickly.

"What the fuck is this?"

Edward doesn't usually curse.

"I tripped."

"On a razor blade?"

"No."

He releases me and turns away from me.

I can feel his anger.

"I don't understand. What on Earth, Alice?"

"Edward—"

"Why would you do this? We've had worst fights."

"I didn't mean to do it."

Edward walks out of the bathroom and sits on our bed, his head in his hands.

His voice sounds deranged when he tells me,

"Alice, it doesn't matter whether or not you meant to do it. It only matters that you did."

I don't understand.

"Are you going to leave me?" Panic, panic.

"I don't know. If you've done this—something so fucked up and childish—to yourself because of me, then maybe I should be the bigger man and leave."

"If you leave me, I'll just kill myself." He stands up and rushes over to me menacingly.

"Oh, so you're suicidal too now?"

His question is harsh.

No, I'm not suicidal.

"Why are you so angry?"

He shakes me so forcefully that it hurts.

"How DARE you ask me that? What the hell am I supposed to do?" He yanks my arm harshly forward and forces it to my face while shouting,

"You just took a razor blade and cut yourself. Like a fucking angsty teenager."

I find myself slammed against the wall and feel his cold breath on my face, so close,

"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO REACT?"

"Edward."

"WHAT?"

"You're scaring me."

"_You're _scaring me. I've known you for eight years, and you've never done this before. Why now?"

"I don't know, love."

I try to move away from the wall, but his firm hand holds me there, helpless,

"Don't call me that. If you loved me at all, you'd never do that. You can't imagine how much it hurts me to look at that. The cut, the blood, on your skin."

"Edward, I don't know what to say."

I don't.

Suddenly he sits down again, head in hands.

"Neither do I."

"Please don't leave me."

"Alice, this is too much. We're all damaged. You don't see me slashing my wrists with razor blades, do you?" I cringed at the idea of Edward doing something so weak.

Edward wouldn't be a cutter; he'd turn to alcohol. Perhaps drugs. But never self-harm. Besides, Edward has Rosalie; she'd never let him stoop so low.

I have no one. No one except Edward, and I can't lose him so I say,

"Edward. I'm not a cutter. It was just a lapse of judgment, I wasn't thinking clearly."

I kneel down before him, and he looks at me, hurt, sitting on our bed, his hair disheveled. I put my hands on his knees and look up at him. He looks down at me sadly and puts his hand on my right cheek.

"I'm not going to leave you."

I smile, relieved. I wonder if it's because he doesn't want to or because he can't. Everyone we know seems to think it's because he can't. If that's true then I wonder why. Why can't he leave? Why does he love me so much? Why does Perfect Edward love Imperfect Alice? _When he could love Perfect Rosalie?_

Edward's demanding voice snapped me out of my thoughts,

"But if this happens again, I'm going to walk out of here and never come back. If you hurt yourself again, you will never hear from me. I will disappear. I'll be damned if I sit back and watch you hurt yourself. I will not stand for it. I'm being forgiving this time; I'm going to believe you and say that it's a lapse of judgment. Is that clear?"

"Yes."

"OK."

Edward puts his other hand on my shoulder and makes me stand up. He sits me on his lap and buries his face in my shoulder-length hair. A few minutes go by and he brings his lips to my ear and says suddenly,

"It hurts me. To see you hurt, Alice, hurts me. Stop hurting me. Love isn't supposed to be about hurt."

He kisses my palm.

"Let me see if I can get this cleaned up. If it's too deep, we'll call Carlisle."

"No!" I shout, alarmed. "I don't want Esme to know."

"I'll ask him not to tell her."

He thinks he wouldn't tell her. They don't talk much anymore, but I don't want to risk it.

He looks at my panicked expression and says that he'll see if we even need to worry about telling Carlisle.

I hold my palm out to him and he observes it silently. He doesn't have to speak because I know exactly what he's thinking. He looks at me, trying to hide his disgust, and announces,

"I think that if you don't want a scar, we need to ask Carlisle to fix this…He won't tell Esme if I ask him not to."

"Whatever you say."

At this point, I just want to forget this ever happened. I look at Edward's pained expression and wonder if he'll ever let me forget.

"I'm going to call Carlisle, but I want you to know that this is not the end of our discussion. This childish act will not go unpunished."

I only nod. I'm not sure what he means. I briefly wonder if he's talking about our nightly games, but I doubt he wants to turn me on right now. So I don't understand.

Edward puts me on our bed and stands. He goes to fetch his phone and leaves to speak to Carlisle from the living room.

I hear him say a weak, "Hello, Carlisle."


	4. Angelfaced, cruel child

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Twilight Saga characters; they belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringements intended.

**Warning:** Darkward, contains violence, abuse, mild form of sexual abuse. DOMESTIC ABUSE. POSSESSIVE, HARSH EDWARD. Do not read if you don't like that.

CHAPTER FOUR - Angel-faced, cruel child.

CARLISLE POV

Esme was sound asleep in my arms, but I couldn't sleep. I lied on my bed, with my arms tight around her, my chin pressed lightly on her sleeping head. At this point, it's only a habit—the tightness of my hold and the physical contact are just part of a routine. Sometimes we don't even try to keep up appearances anymore; those are the times I think of that girl who stole my heart and then refused me. I thought of her every day. I missed her every day, and wondered if she felt the same.

I shook my head and looked down at Esme's sleeping figure guiltily. It happened half a decade ago and I needed to get over it. _She _looked like she was over it every time I saw her.

I could not stop thinking about Edward and Alice. I loved Alice very much, like a daughter. I'm not sure about that, but she is the closest thing I have to a daughter. She was sweet-tempered and respectful growing up and barely caused Esme and me any trouble. And she completed Edward. But certain times, they seemed to only be hurting each other. Where Esme and I used to be so simple and healthy, Edward and Alice were complicated.

But they, at least, were in love.

I never told Esme, or Edward, but it was difficult for me to accept their relationship. Alice and I had bonded. It was bound to happen; Alice never had a father figure since her father left her mother when the latter announced her pregnancy, and I never had a daughter. I had two sons whom I loved very much, but I never had a daughter.

Alice was my daughter, my baby girl. She came to me for advice, she called me 'Dad' or 'Daddy'. When she was younger and scared, I used to talk to her until she fell asleep or stopped crying. She told me she loved me. She was wonderful. And although I love Edward in a special way as my 'first' child and my friend, I hated it when he hurt Alice. I hated it when they fought. I hated it when she cried because of him. What I hated the most was that, when they fought, I had to listen to the two of them. I couldn't take sides. I was always overwhelmed. And on the very few times when she admitted to me what Edward did to hurt her so much during a fight, I couldn't hate Edward or blame him. I couldn't threaten to beat him up. I couldn't even scold him. He was my child too.

My phone began to ring loudly and I dashed to silence it. I saw that Edward was the caller and whispered a worried 'Hello'.

"Hello, Carlisle," his deranged voice began, "Listen to me carefully. I need you to come over without Esme knowing that you are coming to see Alice and me. I'm sorry it's so late and you're going to have to lie to Esme but I need you to come. I'll explain later."

I felt a pang of worry in my chest, but I quickly acquiesced,

"Ok, son."

Edward hung up, and I tried to detach myself from Esme without waking her. Of course, I failed miserably.

"What's wrong, darling?" Esme asked me groggily. She looked so beautiful and peaceful while she slept, and so confused right now. It made me smile, but it pained me because her beauty…her beauty was not _her's_.

"Emergency at the hospital." I lied smoothly.

"Do you have to go?" She asked me in a childlike manner. I chuckled at how she never ceased to ask me that every time, even now that she doesn't really care.

It's all just a routine, a stupid game we play.

"Yes, but I also have to come back because I surely can't leave you in an empty bed, now can I?"

And I'm a coward, so I continue to play the stupid games and say silly things. If I weren't a coward, I'd go after _her_.

"No, you can't." Esme said through her smile.

I kissed cheek her quickly and left.

I drove to Edward's apartment, not far from our house. It was my High School graduation gift for him. Esme hadn't approved. I had told her to stay out of it.

My stomach tightened and I realized that I was still worried, that I had no idea what I was going to find. I ran up the stairs. I can't remember why I didn't use the elevator. I rang the door bell once and Edward opened the door, not very different from himself-same mouth in a tight line, same disheveled hair. No smile, though, and a crazy look in his eyes.

He moved aside to let me in without uttering a single word. I watched him, waiting for something. Anything. He looked at me with pleading eyes and I was at a loss of what to do.

"Dad." He said to me in his broken voice.

"What happened, Edward?"

He was silent for a few seconds. I became anxious. I looked him up and down. He looked alright.

"Edward, are you OK?"

My hands flew to his body and I patted his chest and arms, like a worried mother would a young child.

He seemed healthy.

He opened his mouth and closed it.

"Alice."

I'm ashamed to admit that I felt relieved. It wasn't him who was in trouble. Guiltily, I asked.

"What about Alice?"

Again the horrid silence.

"She cut herself."

I like to think that I am not a stupid man, but at that moment I did not understand.

"What do you mean 'she cut herself'?"

"She wanted to hurt herself."

"I don't understand.

"Carlisle, SHE TOOK A RAZOR BLADE AND RAN IT THOUGH HER PALM. Why? Because she thought that I had left her. Isn't that sick, huh? Shouldn't I leave now? Shouldn't I do something forceful about it?"

I don't know how long the shocked silence lasted. I don't know how I looked or what I did for a few moments, but all I could think about was my little girl, my lovely daughter. Never a troublemaker, always perky and happy, always optimistic and enthusiastic. Straight As, disciplined, laughter erupting from her tiny body all the time.

She what?

_What_?

And then my son, the complicated one. Had he hurt her? Had she hurt him? Did I make a mistake in allowing this? Am I a bad father? Oh God. God. Alice CUT herself? Alice?

"Dad, you look sick."

I watched Edward and remembered his desperation, his urgent questions. I needed to see Alice. Oh, but I felt sick.

Alice.

"Edward, do you want me to tend to her wound," Please God let it be just one, "and then talk with you?"

"I want you to fix her hand and not tell Esme."

I nodded my head. There was no point in arguing. I could say that Esme was family; he would say that Alice is over eighteen and has the right to tell whomever she pleased. I could say that I cannot lie to my wife; he would say that I had to respect the doctor-patient confidentiality agreement. I could say that he told me as his father, and he would say-Would he? Would he tell me that I was not his father?

I pushed aside the crucial question and rushed to their bedroom.

In any case, the way my relationship with Esme was at that moment, I couldn't care less. I know I'm a horrible man for thinking this, but for me, Edward and Alice mattered more than my mundane, feeling-less marriage.

I saw her on the bed, looking weak and fragile, confused, scared.

"Alice."

She didn't look at me. Was she angry with me?

"Alice, are you OK?"

Still without looking at me, she whispered,

"No need to worry, I'm fine."

"Obviously not! Let me see."

"I'd rather not. I just accepted to see you because I didn't want to anger Edward."

What about the fact I'm her father? Didn't she accept because of that? The burns…

"Do you want me to leave?" I asked weakly and was selfish enough to wonder if my children hated me.

"I don't want that. I never will. I don't want anyone to leave!"

"Can I come sit next to you?"

"Please, Dad, please don't do that! Don't treat me like I'm any different. I'm still Alice, I just made a mistake. I'm not a maniac depressed freak; of course you can come near me. Didn't you always? Daddy, please don't treat me differently. I'm still your little girl."

"I know, sweetheart. I know. Sorry, I'm just a little confused."

I realized she was crying.

I went over to the bed and sat next to her, pulling her to my chest. She hugged me tightly and I hugged back.

She obviously didn't want to let me see her hand. I didn't want to pressure her. A little part in me didn't want to see it either; seeing it would make it real. Seeing it would confirm that I had been a horrible father.

I didn't know what to do. We just sat there in silence.

After a while, Edward appeared in the doorway and watched us with cold eyes. He leaned on the doorway and asked in a sickly calm voice,

"Did you fix up her hand?"

"Not yet."

"Carlisle!" He protested furiously.

"Edward."

Suddenly, I was not in the mood for his nonsense, or his mood swings. Or anything. I found myself very angry with him. He was there for me to blame.

"This is irresponsible. The wound could get infected!"

"Would you like to treat it?"

Edward looked shocked for a moment, and after a short silence, said,

"I'm not the doctor; you're the doctor."

"OK, now that we've both established that, why don't you _let_ the doctor do his job, unless I haven't realized that you are a professor in medicine or my chief of staff!" I growled sarcastically.

"You're the chief of staff." Edward said, still shocked.

"Exactly. Now stop giving me orders."

Edward, stunned, obviously did not understand my sudden fury. I don't think I was ever angry with him. In a defensive tone, he protested,

"I was just trying to help."

"Oh what a great job you've been doing so far!"

And that cut right into him.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"That means that you didn't stop this from happening.'

Unfair, I know, but what else could I have said? I preferred to blame him so that I did not have to blame myself. I'm the one who allowed this in the first place.

"What? You THINK THIS IS MY FAULT! Are you crazy? You think I wanted to see her hurt and bleeding?"

"You pushed her out of her mind." I was being very, very cold and Edward was approaching hysterics. Inversion of roles, isn't it?

"SHE cuts herself and I'm blamed for it? Did I push the razor blade into her? Did I drive it through her palm? Did I tell her to do it? DID I?"

I felt Alice shake and I wondered if it was out of fear. Did he scare her? Or was she just shuddering, disgusted by the memory of what she had done?

I suddenly realized that Edward was moving around the place like a tornado, a very fast tornado. He had a big carry-on bag in one hand and he used the other hand to put various items of clothing in his bag. At first I didn't realize what he was doing; I didn't even register Alice's movements. She all but threw herself away from me and stood in the middle of the room, surprised and confused.

"Edward, what are you doing?" She asked him with a frenzied smile on her little, pale face. She looked like a crazy child in an asylum.

Edward didn't answer.

When he emptied his closet's contents into the bag, he zipped the latter up and threw it on the ground. That's when I realized that he was leaving. I had angered him to the point of making him leave. Oh God.

"My love, you're just angry, you can't seriously leave. Calm down. Carlisle's words just hurt your feelings."

I didn't understand how Alice could switch into the responsible and logic-using one so quickly, but bless her.

"Carlisle's words do not affect me anymore." He retorted coolly.

He was looking for his keys and his wallet, both of which he stuffed in his coat. When he tugged his coat on I stood up and said,

"Try to calm down, son-"

"Don't you dare call me that. I am NOT your son anymore. Consider me dead."

I shook my head, adamant, It didn't work like that.

He grimaced.

"You are dead to me, Carlisle."

"Edward-"

"NO. Leave me alone. We are done!"

Had he said that to me or to Alice? Was it cruel of me to hope it was directed towards her and not me? After all, she could find a new love; I could never find another son. Not one like Edward.

Edward looked at me with disdain and disgust. He eyed Alice coldly. Then he picked up his bag and approached me. Praise the Lord, he wanted to come home with me.

"Here are your keys."

What?

"What keys?"

"The keys to your apartment."

"What apartment?"

"This one."

"Edward, this is your apartment."

"No! Not anymore."

"It was my gift to you."

"I don't want your gift. I don't want anything at all from you anymore."

"Edward."

"I said it's over."

Oh. So that _was_ directed to me.

"All your stuff is here. Your _piano_ is here!"

"I'll send someone to pick it up tomorrow or afterwards. Don't contact me."

And then he strode away from us. And left.

Alice followed him crazily, and I followed them.

Hysterically, she asked,

"Edward, what about me?"

"What about you?"

Oh the coldness of Hell!

"You're just going to leave me?"

"Yes."

"But…Edward."

He didn't stop. He went to the living room to find his car keys and didn't even oblige either of us with a look.

"I love you." She said fervently.

He stopped. Dead in his tracks! It was as if he couldn't move anymore. He just froze.

He turned around to face her, and he looked pained. He couldn't leave her, he was right earlier in my office: He couldn't bring himself to leave. She had him wrapped over her little finger.

My son dropped his bag on the floor and threw his coat off of him. I cringed; I really did not need to see them do anything sexual right now. He kissed her hand and walked to the music room where his piano was. Right before he entered the room he said to Alice,

"I'll be waiting for you. When you finish your little father-daughter moment, you can join me. When _he _leaves."

I wasn't even _Carlisle_ anymore. I was simply _he_-said in a disgusted tone to top all the rest! What a cruel child.

Angel-faced, cruel child.


	5. Understatement of the Century

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Twilight Saga characters; they belong to Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringements intended.

**Warning:** Darkward, contains violence, abuse, mild form of sexual abuse. DOMESTIC ABUSE. POSSESSIVE, HARSH EDWARD. Do not read if you don't like that.

CHAPTER FIVE: That's the understatement of the century!

ALICE POV

"I'll be waiting for you. When you finish your little father-daughter moment, you can join me. When _he _leaves."

Ambivalence. That is the only word that can describe how I eel when Edward says that. I'm happy he needed and wanted me to join him. Ecstatic that he loves me so much more than I'll ever believe, overjoyed that he would stop dead in his tracks and give up on his plans just because I mentioned my love for him. But sad for Carlisle. Carlisle loves Edward so much, and Edward's current coldness and cruelty will surely hurt him.

I look at my dad and see him, head bent down, frozen. Suddenly, he heads towards the door. He's simply going to leave.

"Dad!" I call out.

"Yes?"

"You're leaving."

"What else can I do?"

"Talk to him," I urge, as if it's the most obvious choice.

"He does not wish to speak to me."

"He's just a little angry."

"A little?"

His raised eyebrow intimidated me.

"He's not that bad."

No he's not that bad. He's the love of my life. He's great! Wonderful!

"Alice," Carlisle's urgent voice starts, "Does he treat you badly? Does he do more than shout at you?"

"No. Edward's a gentleman."

"Indeed."

"You're being sarcastic!" I accuse.

"You're being paranoid and obtuse," he counters.

"You're being intimidating," I cry out.

He just laughs out boisterously at my utter shock and confusion.

A few second later, when his laugh quiets down, I ask him what's so funny.

"Alice, you think I'm the one who's intimidating? Edward just pulled this little act and you think_ I_ am intimidating?"

"Dad—"

"No, Alice! I want to understand what the hell is wrong with you two! What the hell makes you think it's alright that he can just order you around, scare the hell out of you, and be so damned possessive. What makes him think it is alright for you to have so much power over him…All those weird things that go on between you two…You're like slaves to one another! What makes that OK and—?"

"Love."

"Hell no! That, Alice, is not love. You don't seek to hurt your soul mate when you love them. That's not love. This is teenage, hormonal crap. I thought you two were over the teenage, self-destructive phase."

"Dad, I love him more than life itself."

"And that's unhealthy."

"That's love."

"I'm going to go back home to my lovely wife. I want a bit of peace. Bye."

He leaves without offering me a kiss, without a wave or anything. He just leaves. And that hurts so much. According to Esme and half a dozen shrinks, I have an abandonment issue.

I take a deep breath to myself. Then I go to the music room. Edward isn't playing the piano but composing silently, sitting on a chair. He looks up at me and neither of us can do anything but stare at the other.

"Alice?"

"Edward?"

"Alice."

"Edward."

"I love you."

"I know."

"We're sick."

"So I've heard."

"But I love you."

"I love _you_."

"You're hurt."

"Yes?"

"You hurt yourself."

"Yes."

"And at other times, I hurt you."

"Yes."

"That's sick."

"We've already established that."

"You hurt me too."

"Yes."

"I'm fucked up."

"We both are."

"I don't know what to do about all this."

"Neither do I."

"I don't know if I want to change how we are."

"You don't."

"I don't?"

"You don't!"

"Do you?"

"No."

"I heard what Carlisle said before he left."

"I know."

"Maybe he's right."

"You know he's not."

"How?"

"Because the one time we miserably tried to stay away from each other, I almost couldn't make it. And you weren't doing pretty well yourself."

"That's the understatement of the century!" _Snorting_

"Tell me about it" _Grinning._

"We're just having a bad day."

"Yes."

"Tomorrow will be better."

"It always is."

_Silence._

"No it's not. Yesterday was good and now it's yesterday's tomorrow, which means today, wasn't better-"

"Edward."

"Hmm?"

"Stop over-thinking everything and kiss me like any gentleman would."

"I beg your pardon, ma'am," he whispers, smiling, and stands up.

He kissed me. Senseless.

I kiss back. I think I really could not live without him, no matter what. So, panic-stricken, I kiss him harder and tug at his hair.

**Thank you all for reading. Please try and review. Your feedback is helpful!**


	6. Everybody loves Rosalie

**Author's note:** **Dear Guest, ** **You've reviewed anonymously which mean I can't PM you, but I hope this is enough. Yes, it is a strange story and it's too bad you find my characters mean and ignorant. They're a great deal of things, and some of them are mean, but certainly not all. But we're all entitle to our opinion. In my opinion, you're right, you shouldn't continue to read the story if it bothers you so much. There are many stories out there I'm sure you'll find to your liking. Good luck finding them.** **To all my other readers, thank you for the PMs and views. Your comments mean a lot to me. Athena, this one's for you.**

CHAPTER SIX: Everybody loves Rosalie

Esme POV

I care for Carlisle. I don't love him as I used to, and he doesn't look at me with adoring or lustful eyes anymore - does he even look at me? - but I do care for him. It pained me to see him sad and obsessed and feeling unworthy. He was a good man. He didn't deserve this. This fight with Edward struck me as ridiculous and over-dramatic. I know nothing about the details of said fight, because he refuses to tell me. All I know is that he came back late at night, that same night he had left saying that he was needed in the ER. He returned almost a different man. An unhappy, broken one. I thought he had lost a patient, so I tried very hard not to bother him. However, he remained in the same state for many days, and then many weeks, and I knew that Carlisle was an excellent doctor, but he had lost patients before. I knew that much, and he never was that depressed. So, shyly, and without being overbearing, I asked him what was wrong and was granted the scarce information he deigned tell me. Later, I voiced my concerns to Alice. Alice, her usual over-bright and hyper self, attempted to take my mind off of things.

"Daddy and Edward will be fine," she said. "It's simply a little fallout. We Cullens are very overly dramatic…"

I briefly wondered how Alice Brandon could so easily refer to herself as a Cullen, but realized that if she wasn't a Cullen as Carlisle's daughter, she'd soon be as Edward's wife.

"How's Edward." I asked.

"Fine."

"Not sad? About Carlisle?"

"Of course he is. Now let's go Christmas shopping!"

"Are you spending Christmas with us this year?"

"Why wouldn't we?"

"Edward is angry."

"Edward will get over it."

"I doubt it."

"I'll ask him to."

I simply nodded. A word (more accurately three) from Alice was all it took.

"Esme, stop annoying me and let's go Christmas SHOPPING."

I nodded and went along, but couldn't shake the feeling that my niece was superficial. More often than not, she was only interested in her own little problems. I sighed and thought of my sister who had raised her, my gentle, caring sister, who never failed to listen to my when I needed her.

I glared at Alice.

The apple had fallen far from the tree.

Alice POV

I don't know what on God's green earth was wrong with Esme, but she was unbearable to be with this afternoon. I don't do awkward silences, she knows that! And had I caught her glaring at me all those times? God-I think of my mom, her sister, and what a caring woman she was. Always there for me. Esme-Esme wouldn't be a good mother. She only had eyes for herself.

After the long shopping afternoon with Esme, I returned home. Edward was sitting on one of the couches, drinking, silently. That, of course, got me worried. Why wasn't he at his piano? Why wasn't he studying? Why was he just doing nothing? I looked up at me from under his beautiful lashes and I offered him a weak smile. He smiled back, effectively daze;ing me. He bit his lip, suddenly hesitant. I was worried, again.

"Love, are you OK?"

His brows furrowed and he muttered,

"I'm fine."

"Liar."

He grinned at me and patted down a spot near him for me to sit. I obliged.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"I'm a little sad." At least he wasn't drunk. He didn't slur or anything.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"You miss Carlisle."

"Absolutely not!" He slurred, attempting to sound firm. I struggled to keep a straight face.

"Edward!"

"I know."

"Just talk to him."

"I won't."

"Grow up!"

"I'm older than you!"

"Then act like you are!"

"Get off my back!"

"Get off my nerves!"

"Shut up." He grinned.

"Grow up."

"Love, come closer to me."

"Kiss me."

I felt myself become a little less hyper as he deepened the kiss.

"Just make up with him." I said against his lips as he groaned. "He's miserable and so are you. Besides, Christmas is in four days, and I don't want you two to screw up my merry mood"

He kissed me again and said that I was a selfish brat. Trying to forget his problems with sex, as he always did. I kissed back and moaned his name the entire time, forgetting about Carlisle. Later, sprawled on the floor, I pretended to sleep when he whispered my name. He untangled himself easily and left the room. I focused on him and could hear him dialing the phone.

One day later, I met Dad in our living room, and he was exuberantly happy.

"I take it Edward and you have made up." I squealed excitedly.

"Stop being so hyper and jumping around like that. You'll get hurt." Edward said from behind Dad. I hadn't seen him. I smiled sheepishly.

"Are you guys discussing my gifts?"

"You're too old for me to get you anything." Carlisle said with a smirk.

"So are you. I have few options: hair dye, wheelchair…"

"Oh give an old man a break!"

Edward was laughing boisterously and I loved that so much.

The two most important men in my life! Even thinking that, I felt guilt tugging at my heart. I heard his Souther drawl, _Aren't I important too?_ I patted the voice away. I had Edward.

Carlisle left after announcing that Emmet, Edward and - through our weird connection- my brother and Rosalie were coming over to spend Christmas with us. I love Rosalie. Edward loves Rosalie. Carlisle - everybody loves Rosalie. She is simply perfect.

When Edward and I were alone he eyed me cautiously.

"What?" I asked in my tinkle voice, jumping a little.

"I'm afraid that Emmett's and Rose's arrival has made you even more hyper than usual."

"Nonsense." I swatted his arm, pretending to be cross. He grabbed my hand and tucked it under his hand that he had placed on his chest.

He was right though. I loved Emmet very much; he is the perfect older brother. And he's like a huge kid who never grew up.

And Rosalie is just perfect.

"I love you so very much, Alice. You are everything to me." I snapped out of my thoughts.

I eyed him cautiously; why the sudden confession? Why did he sound so desperate and deranged? It's not like we never say these things to each other, we do, but-

"What is it?" I managed quietly.

"What?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, love. Can't I tell you how much I love you?"

"You changed subjects so quickly!"

"God Alice! You've just ruined it."

"Ruined what?"

Edward turned around, his hands in his pockets and went to our room. I called after him, repeating,

"Ruined WHAT?"

Yet, he did not answer.

The next morning, he was perfectly normal and smiling and hugging. I attributed last night's…_weirdness _to his drunken state, forcing myself to forget that he had not been drunk.


	7. Drivina hell

CHAPTER SEVEN: Drivin-a hell

Emmett POV

We're drivin home togetha' tomorrow. She's sleepin now, all creamy skin and golden hair. I would've been so lucky, life would've been just dreamy if things were different If she did-if I wasn't.

God! It sucks living a lie. She's the only person who knows about me and I'm the only one who knows about us. And we might as well both be goin-a hell, cause we;re both liars and sinners. One messed up pair we make.

Rosalie shifts. She doesn't wake up. I'm grateful. I like watching her sleep, I like seeing her happy and peaceful. She'd have been a lot more of both had she picked the right brother.

But she picked me, because she knows what I am and I know what we are. We accept it. Maybe someday, Pops and Edward'll accept us. And me.

Maybe tomorrow, it'll all be OK.


	8. Meet Rosalie Hale

Rosalie POV

Emmett and I were in the car, driving from Boston to New York where Emmet's family lived. I missed that city so much. That's where I grew up, where Edward and I met, and his entire family took me in after…I don't feel like bringing _that_ up.

I was happy to see Carlisle-who has been so good and fatherly to me-again. We speak all the time, but it's not the same since Em' and I moved to Boston. To tell you the truth, it's not the same since that day at the Ritz, all those years ago. But let's stick to the idea that Carlisle is like a father to me, because the alternative will lead us to a dark place and Christmas is not a time for darkness.

Edward, I've missed as well. Of course. The most. Always the gentleman and the serious yet charming Cullen brother… how could I not? Edward is really like a brother to me, and he thinks of me very much as a sister since he can't think of Alice as such. In truth, he is my oldest friend. We know each other since childhood, so it has nothing to do with Alice. Edward is like my non-romantic soul mate. Of course, I don't have a romantic soul mate because I'm fucked up. Excuse my French.

Actually, I can speak perfect French and I never understood that expression.

Oh, Alice…I'm glad I'll see her. I can't wait to go on a crazy shopping trip with her. I know she misses me for at least that, since Esme is not very good at shopping with Alice. Alice is the sweetest, funniest, nymph-like, annoying, childish person I've met. And I love her.

Emmet was singing, quite falsely, to some annoying song, and I smiled at him from the passenger's seat. He was happy to be home too. Our little arrangement has taken a toll on both of us.

We tell people that, last year, we had to move to Boston to accommodate Emmett's football career. That's not true though. Carlisle and Edward think we've left New York because I couldn't live her anymore, because of the memories. That is not true either. We decided to move to Boston so that no one will see through the facade that threatens to crumble over our little arrangement. Emmett hadn't expected me to actually live with him because we had never…we didn't…well…damn it we weren't like other couples. But I decided I get away from _him_. Granted, living with his son didn't exactly help, but I was trying.

After this Christmas, I think I'll move back to New York near the family.

The family, my family. I love them so much, though I don't think I'd be caught dead saying it!

I had such a great time growing with them, becoming a Cullen.

One thing you should know about the Cullens is that they are all messed up at some level. They're all adopted. They've all been through rough times. However, they are all without exception great people. The best family you could wish for.

You should also know that they are extremely rich. I mean extremely, incredibly, crazily, dreamily rich. So much that you wouldn't believe it. I know that for a long time, I didn't believe it. Add to that: They are modest and humble about it all. Which I find is just disgustingly goody-two-shoes. I say if you have it, flaunt it. They don't agree. But don't be fooled by their behavior, they are awfully rich.

Carlisle, the son of some type of preacher, wanted to be a doctor. His father wanted him to preach the word of God. When Carlisle disobeyed, he was kicked out, at 16. He lived with a girl until he was 18. That's when his parents died. That's when he became very, very rich. His parent's left him billions of dollars, countless estates, a multi=million dollar business he sold of right away. His dad was just a priest. His mother was a housewife.

A housewife whose father owned half of Texas. A housewife whom her father damned after she married a humble priest. A housewife who was an only child/ No one knew. Carlisle's parents never told him-they weren't that close. The two of them were too narrow-minded while, by nature, Carlisle was a free spirit. They lived a modest life due to religious beliefs.

This is when he adopted Edward. Don't ask me why and adoption agency would agree to give a child to a college student, because I have absolutely no idea. I'm ashamed to say I think that some -_a _lotof_- _ bribing might have been involved.

At 18, Carlisle met Edward in a hospital he was visiting for an internship. Edward was a child who just lost his mother-a poor yet dignified woman, we were told. He was alone, didn't know his father, had no family. Carlisle had no one as well, so he took him in. I don't like to think much about what had happened to Edward before to make him so sullen, but I know times were sometimes rough for him.

Four years later came Emmett. He and Edward met on a soccer team. One day, Edward, despite his young age, noticed bruises all over Emmett. He told Carlisle. Carlisle, not knowing what to do, invited Emmett over one day and asked him. Emmett, still a child, panicked and told Carlisle that he'd never tell him because it meant he'd have to enter foster care.

Then, out of spontaneity, Carlisle promised Emmet that if he told him what happened and if he let him check out his wounds, and social services said he couldn't live with whoever took care of him, then Carlisle would adopt him. Emmett, already very fond of Edward, told Carlisle what happened: Emmett's mother had died a few years ago and his father plunged into alcoholism and gambling and drugs. He sold all their belongings and beat Emmett whenever he could…Sorry, it hurts to talk about this. I think of sweet, gentle, confused Emmett and I want to kill that bastard. I hate Emmett's biological father. I hate Edward's more. Neither of them, though, trump my own.

Carlisle never knew what to do with his money; and he felt extremely guilty about it. At least he felt guilty; my parents thought the fact they owned billions was normal.

He built hospitals, clinics, orphanages, schools. He sent poor kids to college. He gave out gift cards during the holidays. He was extremely generous. He spent a lot on his children, and on Esme. Spoiled them rotten if you ask me! Yet they weren't spoiled. He had managed to single handedly turn his boys into gentlemen. He is a great man.

He tried to spoil me too, more times than I care to remember. I refused his money and gifts, and gave it back. Because I was rich enough as it was and because…well it was different with me and him.

He was my Oedipus heel.

I was the one who had said no.


	9. A monster's son

One day, during Edward's freshman year of college at Columbia University (Edward had turned out to be a genius like Carlisle; graduated at 17. Would it be tactless on my part to say that it's in the genes?), a lawyer tracked him down.

He told him that his father had died. Edward had not heard of his father in over a decade and was simply dumbfounded. The man told him that his father, a rich, blue-blooded Englishman had left Edward ten million dollars. Edward refused it and hung up.

He got depressed and didn't leave his room for days until Carlisle and Emmett managed to get him out, with Alice's help, and put him back together. I was the one to convince him to take the money, using my own experience to make my point. I don't want to talk about that…But I had returned from my then first escapade to Cambridge and put some life back into my friend.

Edward took the money and split them four ways to Emmet, Alice, and myself, and himself. Edward almost threw that money out of the window because he wanted to get rid of it so much. However, it turns out his efforts were all in vain because his old man had left him estates overseas, an international company, and farms.

Edward hates his money; he once told me it made him feel guilty and filthy. He said it made him feel more like his biological father. He told no one else, because I'm the only one who can understand him. But I know Carlisle knows; he knows Edward too well. Edward hates his biological father and his money. Edward sometimes hates himself for being that monster's son. I hate myself too at times.

We understand each other in a way no one else can. That's why I love him so much.

I love all the Cullens too much. I feel like one of them. I always have been a Cullen. "Hale" is a profanity I've been trying to erase all my life.


End file.
